


Real Funny

by VagrantWriter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:51:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7163972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VagrantWriter/pseuds/VagrantWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He’d always played pranks on the Starks. It was a show of affection, and they’d understood that. Ramsay didn’t. He wouldn’t. Ramsay had his own way of showing affection.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Funny

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WitchesBrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchesBrew/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Thramsay sketches](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6767473) by [WitchesBrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchesBrew/pseuds/WitchesBrew). 



> This fic is for WitchesBrew for providing my new icon. I'll post it below so that everyone can take a moment to admire it. While you're there, you can also admire the picture that inspired this work [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6767473/chapters/15941548).

Theon snickered and held a hand to his mouth to stifle it. After all, the key to a good prank was to never tip your hand too early. Something _Jon_ had never learned, always laughing and giving himself away at the first opportunity.

Like the time they’d stolen Arya’s fencing uniform while she was in the shower. Upon finding it missing from her gym bag, she’d stormed into the kitchen, immediately suspecting them. Her gaze leveled on Robb; he didn’t respond. Her gaze leveled on Theon; he returned it, daring her to accuse him of something. Her gaze leveled on Jon; he asked if she’d checked in the icebox, then burst out laughing. He wasn’t a graceful laugher, either, not when something really got him going. Gasping like a landed fish as Arya announced they were all assholes. Idiot. Theon didn’t miss him at all.

He hadn’t talked to him a while. Or Robb. Or Arya, for that matter. These days it was only him and Ramsay. And occasionally the Boys. But mostly just Ramsay.

Ramsay was all he needed.

Ramsay, who may not have been as predictable as Jon but was reliable in his own way. For instance, he always slept hard when he was in a good mood, his mind untroubled by his father. Theon had been waiting for this chance, and here he was now, crouched outside Ramsay’s bedroom, biting the inside of his cheek in anticipation.

The alarm went off, the radio tuned to static. Ramsay groaned and stretched out to hit the snooze button. Or tried to stretch. The handcuffs clinked against the bars of the headboard, the mattress springs squealed, and Ramsay…didn’t make any noise at all. Theon waited.

The alarm turned off. And then…

“Reek.”

It was gentle and patient. A master calling his disobedient dog. Not the tone he’d been expecting. It chilled his insides.

For a split second, he considered running. But then came another, “Re~ek,” sweeter this time. “I know you’re out there, pet.”

Gut filled with cold lead, Theon stood and peered around the door. Ramsay was sitting up in bed, composed as you like, arm bent awkwardly where it was cuffed to the bedframe. It…wasn’t as funny as Theon had hoped.

“Did you do this?” Ramsay asked, voice even.

Theon nodded miserably.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Theon admitted. He’d always played pranks on the Starks. It was a show of affection, and they’d understood that. Ramsay didn’t. He wouldn’t. He had his own way of showing affection.

“You were trying to get back at me for something, weren’t you?”

“What? No, of course not!”

“You weren’t trying to punish me? Show how little you think of me?”

“No, I never.” Theon gripped the door jamb, torn between wanting to rush to Ramsay’s side and wanting to run away. “You know I think the world of you. I love you.”

Ramsay looked unconvinced, upper lip jutted out in annoyance. “You love me by chaining me to the bed?” He yanked on the chain. It rattled but, predictably, didn’t give. “Where did you get these cuffs?”

“From your bottom drawer,” Theon admitted.

“I thought as much.” Ramsay sighed and fell back against the headboard. “I put those in there for a reason. They don’t have a key, idiot.”

The cold lead sank lower in Theon’s gut. “It doesn’t?”

“I lost it.”

They stood staring at each other for a few seconds.

“Go get the phone for me, Reek.”

Without question, Theon hurried to do as he was bid. He grabbed the phone from the nightstand and delivered it to Ramsay’s outstretched, waiting hand. Singlehandedly, Ramsay worked the speed dial and settled in against the pillows as the phone rang. Theon waited with bated breath.

“Damon? Yeah, it’s Ramsay. Get your ass over here. Bring your best bolt cutters.”

A pause. Theon couldn’t hear Damon’s voice beyond a soft buzz from the other side of the line.

“No questions. I’ll explain later. I want you here in five minutes, got it?” Ramsay hung up without waiting for a response and tossed the phone to the end of the bed. He swung his displeased gaze back on Theon. “And you…what am I going to do with you?”

“I’m sorry,” Theon said.

“You _say_ you love me, Reek, but then you go and do something like this.” He rattled the chain again. “And you won’t even tell me why.”

Theon stood shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I was…it was just…”

“You want to be the one in charge,” Ramsay finished.

Theon’s head snapped up, because that was quite obviously not what he had been meaning to say.

“When you came to me, you said you needed someone to take care of you,” Ramsay went on. “But maybe you’re tired of our arrangement. Maybe you think you’ve got your shit together enough that you can be the one in charge?”

Theon couldn’t respond beyond shaking his head in adamant denial.

“Well…” Ramsay spread his free arm wide. The other clinked the chains around his wrist. “Here I am. All chained up and helpless. And there you are.” His lip curled. “Go ahead.”

“Go…ahead?”

“Fuck me. Dominate me. It’s what you want.”

Theon shook his head wildly. “No, that’s not—”

“Do it!” Ramsay barked. “You can’t try on Daddy’s clothes and then chicken out halfway through. Fucking do it!”

Theon wrung his hands together nervously.

“What are you standing there for?” Ramsay’s voice was dangerous. “Come here.”

Theon huddled in on himself.

“Come _here_ , Reek.”

He went, walking with a slight limp. When he was near enough, Ramsay grabbed his wrist and jerked him onto the bed. The springs in the mattress squealed. Ramsay let out an agitated _ooph_ as Theon landed heavily on his lap, and Theon scrambled to lift himself up on hands and knees. Somehow, he managed to get himself straddling Ramsay, who was naked under the covers but not especially aroused that Theon could feel.

“Good.” Ramsay’s free hand went to his hips. And just stayed there. “You’re fully clothed. I’m naked. You’re pinning me down, even though I’m already chained and can’t go anywhere. Is this good? Is this how you wanted it?”

“No.” Theon bit the inside of his cheek. Not to keep from laughing this time, but to keep from whimpering. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But I _want_ you to hurt me.” Ramsay’s hand slipped into the waistband of Theon’s boxers. “Come on. Get your dick out. Fuck me raw and bloody.” Theon cried out when a rough hand wrapped around his member. Ramsay snorted in disgust. “You’re not even hard.”

“Please!” Theon begged as Ramsay started to work him, so rough it was painful. “Please, Ramsay, I never wanted to hurt you. It was a joke, that’s all.”

Ramsay stopped and stared up, eyes narrowed. “A joke?”

“I didn’t know you’d lost the key.”

The hand was gone from his pants, now gripping his chin, vice-like. “You think this is a joke, Reek? Everything I do for you—taking you in when you had nowhere to go, making sure you get up in the morning instead of wasting away in bed, feeding you, clothing you—you think that’s a joke? You think taking care of you is easy?”

“No,” Theon said again, even as he shook his head.

Ramsay blew a gust of air from between his clenched teeth and used his grip to shove Theon away. Theon slammed against the bars of the footboard and lay stunned for a moment. Downstairs, he heard the door open and Damon’s heavy boots on the hardwood floor.

“Get out,” Ramsay hissed. “Go hide somewhere. When Damon’s done, I’m going to come looking for you. And by then, I want you to have thought of how you’re going to make this right.”

Theon ran from the room and hid himself in the linen closet. Tucked himself in the back, arms and legs tangled like a contortionist—or a dead spider—and used a stack of haphazardly folded towels as camouflage. Damon’s footsteps came up the stairs. He would know where he was needed. Theon held his breath but couldn’t stop the pounding of his heart. Somehow, he could still hear over it though.

“What happened here?” There was laughter in Damon’s voice. He shouldn’t _laugh_. It wasn’t funny. “Your pet try something funny on you?”

“Yeah,” Ramsay snorted. “Real funny.”


End file.
